‘Brinkley?’
‘My dog.’
My heart does something dangerously soft and mushy. ‘You have a dog?’
‘A golden retriever.’ He nods.
‘Aww...’
He laughs. ‘What?’
‘I just didn’t picture you as a dog person, but now you say it I can totally see it.’
He grins. ‘I am indeed a dog person. Whatever that means.’ He moves away, coming to stand beside me but looking out at the view. ‘You got one?’
‘A dog? Nah.’
He grins slowly and my heart flip-flops. ‘You’re not a “dog person”?’
‘Oh, I am.’ I shake my head. ‘I’ve always had dogs. I left Harrison behind when I moved to Sydney and it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.’ Tears thicken my throat.
‘Why’d you leave him?’
I turn around, facing out to the ocean, my body beside his. ‘He was too old to rehome. I left him at Mum and Dad’s—they have a big, beautiful property with bunches of avocado trees. He spent his days running around and eating the fruit whenever it dropped to the ground.’ I shake my head fondly at the memory. ‘I always thought I’d bring him to Sydney, but then I met Gareth and he’s allergic...’ My voice tapers off as I draw in a fortifying breath. ‘Harrison died last Christmas.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He says it with the sympathy only a dog owner can feel. I nod curtly, but inside my heart is shattering.
‘He was fifteen, and arthritic.’
‘Doesn’t make it suck any less.’
I shake my head, lifting my eyes to his. ‘Nope.’ Something passes between us. A surge of warmth or understanding, something that flutters in my gut. I rip my gaze away, focusing on the golf course.
‘Do you know why it’s called Silver Dunes?’ I murmur, my eyes chasing across the course, finding the sand dunes one by one.
‘Nice name?’ he says light-heartedly.
I pull a face. ‘Sure, that’s part of it. But no, actually. It’s that bunker there.’ I point across the course. The twelfth hole is only partly visible, just the edge of the bunker shimmering from this angle. ‘On a clear night like this, the moon hits it and the sand looks like starshine. Can you see it?’
‘No,’ he says with a slight laugh. ‘I see dark rolling hills and pale sand bunkers.’
‘Look, though,’ I persist. ‘Can’t you see it? It’s kind of magical.’
He angles his face, so close to m
ine I feel his breath against my jaw. ‘It’s not the most transfixing thing I’ve seen tonight,’ he says simply and my stomach squishes and turns.
I bite down on my lower lip, stilling my smile, my pulse.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asks, the question soft.
I nod, even though my tummy is in loops and probably not capable of eating much. It’s been a long time since lunch. ‘Sure.’
‘Happy for me to order something?’
I nod. ‘Yeah. Whatever you’re having.’
He pulls away from me and I feel his absence almost instantly. I stare out at the golf course, but he’s back a second later. ‘Your phone was ringing.’ He holds it out towards me and I look towards the screen.